


Just Another Femme Fatale?

by ZazzyZ



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Badass Lindsay, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Falling In Love, Female Jack, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulation, Michael basically just being a cutie, Pining, Protective Michael, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZazzyZ/pseuds/ZazzyZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael was going to go straight back to the safe-house with the cash after the heist, but a series of mishaps leave him in quite a vulnerable position. Physically and mentally. Somehow, though, it's not the worst thing that could have happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Femme Fatale?

In fairness, Michael hadn’t intended to go to the bar right after the heist. He had planned to go straight to the safe house and hunker down, like Geoff had implicitly stated. He was going to take the cash and hide it in the couch, like they always did, and wait for Gavin and Jeremy to show up after they mislead the cops while Michael took the cash.

He was going to do all that, he swore. It wasn’t his fault that his bike blew a tire and threw him a meter and a half down the road. Well, perhaps that was his fault. Jeremy had cautioned him about the bike before they left – he had mentioned the rubber was almost to the rims, and that it would probably be a better idea to take Gavin or Ryan’s bike. But it was his _favorite bike_.

But going into the bar, now _that_ wasn’t his fault. He was ten blocks from the safe house, and the whole left side of his body was an open wound from being thrown from his bike. And everyone knew that alcohol worked fantastically to dull pain.

So when Michael stumbled into the dimly lit bar at eleven at night, battered, carrying a blood-stained briefcase and demanding a whole bottle of vodka, it was not his fault that he caught _her_ attention. She was sitting at the bar, sipping a gin and tonic, and only politely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him once before returning to her drink. Michael knew he couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass up – they were in quite a dodgy area of Los Santos, but she stood out like the last sunflower in a crowd of weeds at the end of summer.

But he wasn’t going to go over there and talk to her, regardless of how fated their meeting seemed. He was going to quietly finish his drink without drawing the attention of any of the other patrons of the bar – all three of them – and he was going to go to the safe house. Halfway through the bottle of vodka, though, he changed his mind. He just wanted to talk, after all.

“Hey,” he said, sliding three seats down the bar to sit beside her. She raised those perfect eyebrows again at his slightly slurred voice, and he mentally berated himself.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding like bells. “Can I help you, or do you just want to keep staring at me like you have been doing since you walked in, but from a closer vantage point?”

Michael almost swooned. She was just his type – deceptively kind-looking, but with a cheeky bit of attitude. With courage he didn’t know he had, he replied huskily, “No. I want your name. And then I want to take you back to mine.”

For a moment her face flickered with surprise, then settled into a mischievous grin. “It’s Lindsay,” she said. “And-“ her eyes flickered over Michael’s body for a moment, clearly deliberating. Then she shrugged. “I guess I haven’t got anything else to do tonight.” She slid elegantly off her stool, leveling Michael with the same expression of amused indifference she had worn all night.

“Lead the way, charming.”

* * *

 

Michael had barely opened the door when Lindsay was pushing his against it, kissing him hard. For all her aloofness, she seemed quite keen for Michael, if her groping of him in the elevator was any indication. The safe house, of course, was not a ‘house’ but rather a cheap apartment where the landlord was paid extra to not ask questions about the shady characters coming and going. And Michael certainly did look suspicious – blood-covered, a half-empty bottle of vodka and a briefcase in one hand, the arm of a beautiful, mysterious woman shrouded in red hair on the other. Not to mention Gavin and Jeremy later. Perhaps the landlord might need a little extra again on top of their rent for that month.

That was a problem for future Michael though, as current Michael was lost in Lindsay’s hands and mouth. She kicked the door shut behind them, pressing Michael’s back against the door as she kissed him passionately. Finally, she broke away, panting, and with a satisfied grin at Michael’s somewhat dumbfounded expression, she spun on her heel and strode into the kitchen.

“As if she owned the place,” Michael muttered with enthrallment. He took a long gulp from the vodka bottle, then followed her.

She was sitting at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a glass of Geoff’s whiskey. It was a thirty-five year old bottle of Glenfiddich, and while Michael didn’t know much about vintage whiskies he did know that the bottle was worth over three thousand dollars. They stored a lot of personal items at their safe houses, and Michael thought regretfully of Geoff’s decision to keep some of his expensive whisky at this one. She, however, was helping herself to it as though it were cheap cask wine, and somehow this just made Michael more captivated by her.

“Bathroom?” she asked as she sipped daintily, and he pointed down the hall speechlessly. She winked at him as she went, leaving the glass still half-full. Michael had a feeling she wasn’t going to drink the rest.

As soon as he heard the bathroom door click, he quickly strode over to the interconnecting lounge room. He threw up the couch cushions and deposited the briefcase. Then he wacked the cushions hurriedly back into place, having just enough time to take another generous gulp of vodka before he heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door re-open.

She came out into the hallway, but didn’t come back into the kitchen. Instead, she merely inclined her head towards the bedroom – the door of which was open, and would explain why she knew where it was – and he scampered after her without hesitation.

* * *

She was insatiable. Every time Michael flopped back on the pillows, gasping for air, she was beside him, an eyebrow quirked and a challenging expression that seemed to ask if that was really the _best_ he could do. And he would be up again, to prove that he could do better, until finally – hours? days? – later, she too flopped back on the pillows with a satisfied grin. Michael lay beside her, looking into her eyes and tracing his fingers through her hair and over her lips. She closed her eyes into his hands, and for a moment she seemed gloriously unguarded. Until suddenly her eyes flew open, and she threw herself forward and out of bed, pulling Michael’s shirt and her jeans on.

“Shall I get us a drink?” she said, her amused, aloof expression back in place.

“Sure,” Michael said quizzically, but she turned on her heel without a clarification for her odd withdrawal, and Michael shrugged. He pushed himself into a sitting position and briefly checked his phone to see if there were any messages from any of the crew. There was one, from Jeremy, dated an hour ago. He said he and Gavin had lost the police and were making their way to the apartment, but they were maybe two or three hours away. Michael thought with satisfaction that he could Lindsay out before they were ever alerted to her presence. The alcohol had begun to wear off, and he was beginning to regret his choices that night.

Michael knew he was impulsive – it was his biggest weakness, and was often a danger to the crew. He didn’t regret having met Lindsay, but he would be glad when he could meet her in a less volatile situation. She complimented his impulsive nature and he would be lying if he said she wasn’t the most intriguing woman he had ever met. He was not looking forward to asking her to leave, but he would do so after their drink. Hopefully after getting her number, too.

She came back into the room at that moment, two glasses in her hands. At Michael’s questioning look, she said, “Coke and vodka. Well, Diet Coke. Why haven’t you got any normal Coke?”

 _Because Ryan is insane and will not tolerate the presence of any other type of Coke_ , Michael thought drily, but instead he merely chuckled and accepted the glass from her. She fluidly climbed back onto the bed, straddling him as she sipped her glass. Thoughts of asking her to leave left Michael’s mind.

“Chug your drink,” she said sensually, grinding her hips into his to exemplify her point, “And let’s go again.”

Michael didn’t need to be asked twice. She matched him, downing her drink as quickly as he downed his. As soon as he set his glass on the bedside table, she pressed her lips to his. For a moment there was an odd taste in his mouth – _probably Diet Coke, it tastes nothing like real Coke_ – then all he could taste was her, god, her hands were everywhere –

But something felt different this time. Before, her touch had felt electric, and he was vividly aware of everything she was doing. Now, it seemed, with every moment he spent kissing her, he was getting more and more disorientated. She was running her fingers up his forearms, pulling his hands above his head, and he could barely feel her fingertips. His eyes were closed, but when he opened them his vision was blurry and spinning. Just as he began to consider that something was terribly wrong, she broke away from him, and he felt a cold snap of something around his wrists.

Suddenly she was on the other side of the room, surveying him emotionlessly. He tried to pull forward, to go to her, but found his arms were stuck above his head. Room spinning, he looked up to find he was bound to the wrought-iron headboard by a pair of handcuffs.

“Wha…” he slurred, turning back to look at Lindsay with confusion. She was gathering her things, not looking at him. In his bewildered mind, he desperately tried to work out what was going on, but he couldn’t seem to hold a coherent thought. Lindsay was up, about to leave, when he called after her desperately.

“Wait,” he mumbled, yanking uselessly at his bonds. She stopped and looked at him, a pitying expression on her face.

“Thanks for tonight, Mogar,” she said softly. “Money’s under the couch, right?”

For a moment he was dumbfounded. She knew who he was. She had probably orchestrated their whole meeting. Had she shot out the tires on his bike so he would stop at that bar? How did she know he would go in? She had shielded her face with her hair from the security camera…she must have heard him pushing down the couch cushions… his mind was whirling with questions, but he managed to collect himself enough to respond.

“You were only here to rob me,” he whispered. Her face contorted for a moment, then settled back to detachment. “The Fake AH Crew will find you. They’ll kill you.”

“Will _you_?” she asked quietly. He was silent. Find her – yes. _Kill_ her…

She turned back to the door, but froze when he called after her.

“I will find you.”

Eyelids drooping, vision slipping away, he slumped sideways on the bed. He only just heard to say in her soft, musical voice, “I’m counting on it,” before he passed out.

* * *

When Gavin and Jeremy finally entered the apartment, they knew immediately something was wrong. For one thing, Michael was almost always on the couch after a mission, playing games while simultaneously protecting the cash. But the apartment was silent, and upon noticing this Jeremy immediately drew out his gun and clicked off the safety. Gavin followed suit, and the pair entered the apartment noiselessly, Jeremy leading and Gavin covering the rear.

The kitchen was empty apart from two bottles of alcohol in varying states of consumption. Jeremy almost sighed with relief – Michael had just got drunk and gone to bed – when he noticed the couch cushions flung across the floor. Quickly, he walked over – but the briefcase was not there, and had not been for hours. He swore.

“Jeremy!” hissed Gavin, touching a finger to his lips.

“The briefcase isn’t here, Gavin,” Jeremy said, holstering his weapon. “Whatever happened, the person who did it is already gone. I think we need to call Geoff.”

“But – where’s Michael?” asked Gavin hesitantly. Jeremy gave him a helpless look. Gavin holstered his weapon, too, and strode down the hallway to the bedrooms. He knew what Jeremy’s look meant, but he wouldn’t accept it. He came to a screeching halt when he saw the master bedroom’s door slightly ajar. Jeremy, who had been following him closely, ran into him. Gavin barely reacted. If his best friend was dead –

At that exact moment, the pair heard a weak groan from the bedroom, and Gavin almost screamed. He shoved the door open and there was Michael, handcuffed to the bed, bare-chested and blinking blearily at them.

“Hey guys!” he garbled, trying to push himself to a sitting position but failing miserably. Jeremy and Gavin quickly made their way to the bed, Jeremy already pulling out his phone and dialing Geoff.

“What the hell happened, Michael?” Gavin said, grabbing his forearm to stop him from attempting to sit again. He appeared to be trying to push himself up with his arms, but as his arms were bound above his head the attempts were hopeless. Given these attempts, it seemed as though he had forgotten his arms were bound above his head at all. When he spoke, Gavin could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I met the most amazing girl, Gav,” he slurred happily, then his face fell slightly. “She did rob us, though.”

Jeremy swore colorfully just as Geoff picked up the phone. “For fucks sak- Geoff. We just got to the safe house and Michael’s been drugged, I think, and the money’s gone. Some girl got it.”

Jeremy held the phone away from his ear as Geoff cursed vehemently. Michael frowned and tried to sit up again. “Hey,” he said loudly. “Tell him not to talk about her like that.”

In his efforts to move, he pushed the blankets off himself, and now Gavin cussed, as it became clear Michael was fully naked underneath the blankets.

“Can you send Ryan with the lock-picking stuff?” he said holding a hand up to cover Michael’s junk from his view and trying hard not to laugh. Geoff was furious, and rightly so. This heist had been a month in the making, and some girl and had just waltzed in and taken it right out of the hands of one of their best. In spite of that, Jeremy was almost glad it happened, because drugged Michael was borderline hysterical. Gavin clearly seemed to feel the same, one hand clamped firmly over his mouth to stop himself laughing as he looked pointedly away from Michael.

As Gavin wrestled the blankets over a struggling and incoherent Michael, Jeremy found he wasn’t so disappointed with how the day had gone.

* * *

_A Year and A Half Later_

The debacle of the Lady Robber heist (as the Lads affectionately called it, and the Gents venomously named it) had been all but forgotten when Lindsay finally resurfaced. Once Michael finally woke up completely sober, he had refused to describe the girl to Geoff, earning him the longest-ever removal from active duty. Geoff raged and threatened Michael, but he simply claimed he couldn’t remember what she looked like. All members of the crew were very aware that he did remember her, and his sudden disinterest in other girls did not go unnoticed. Though it was clear Michael had feelings for the girl who had manipulated and robbed him – a fact Geoff pointed out desperately – Michael merely shrugged and said nothing. Eventually Geoff gave up trying to get information from Michael, and the topic became taboo.

Michael still thought about her all the time, though. Retrospectively he understood everything Geoff was saying. She had manipulated him, and she probably still was. Everything she had said must have been a lie. Her name probably wasn’t even Lindsay. He knew all this, but the only thing he could concentrate on was the last thing she said to him – “ _I’m counting on it_.” Did that mean she wanted him to find her? That maybe she had felt something between them, too? Or that she hoped he, specifically, would be the one to find her, so that he would protect her from the rest of the crew? He was inclined to believe the latter, when he was feeling skeptical. More and more, though, he simply daydreamed that it was the former.

He had, just a few weeks earlier, begun to toss around the idea of perhaps going looking for her when she strolled into the main penthouse with Geoff on a Tuesday evening. He had been on a recon mission with Jeremy that day. It was not a particularly taxing job, but neither had eaten all day while trailing the man they were intending to kidnap and hold for ransom. So when they returned to their headquarters, he and Jeremy ordered an insane amount of Chinese food and ate with a gusto that was unexpected from two relatively short men. The smell eventually drew the rest of the crew out of their rooms, and soon the whole Fake AH Crew, minus Geoff, were having something of a family dinner in the living room.

When she walked in, Michael had just shoved a huge forkful of chicken chow mien in his mouth. He caught her eye as she caught his and as she offered him her usual calmly amused expression he choked on his food. Gavin thumped him on the back with a laugh, clearly not drawing a link between the girl’s entrance and his coughing fit.

He quickly collected himself, wrestling his face into an expression of casual indifference as Geoff approached with Lindsay. Inside, he was unnerved – why was she here? Was this not the most dangerous place for her to be? What was her game?

“Quiet, assholes,” said Geoff loudly, and everyone fell expectantly silent, looking at Lindsay with interest. Geoff gestured to her. “This is Lindsay Tuggey. She’s new to the crew; she’ll be helping us on the kidnapping job. She has expertise in that area, and I think she’ll be useful on later jobs. Say hello, and don’t be weird.”

Michael couldn’t contain himself. He let out a great snort of laughter, which he tried to cover up as a cough. She certainly did have expertise – she had bound and incapacitated him in less than three hours, and made off with over ten thousand dollars. Of course, this was morbidly funny to him, in a way that barely funny at all, but the rest of the crew were understandably confused.

“What is it, Michael?” said Geoff rolling his eyes at Michael’s antics.

“So- so she’s a part of the crew now, then?” said Michael, still wracked with laughter.

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“That’s hilarious,” said Michael, doubled over. “Because she’s the girl who drugged me and robbed us last year.”

In an instant, Michael straightened, on his feet with a grin on his face and a gun in his hand. The Fake AH Crew were not the top gang in Los Santos for no reason, though. Geoff already had a gun out, pointing at Lindsay’s head. Ryan, too, was on his feet, a gun trained on Michael, and Jeremy had stood too, his gun focused on Ryan. Only Gavin and Jack remained seated – Gavin because he had not been listening and had failed to react quickly enough, and Jack because she had a mouthful of beef and cashews and was not interested enough to put it down.

Regardless of his quick reaction, this was clearly not something Geoff had expected. He had recognized Michael reaching for his ankle-holster and had reached for his gun, instinctively. Now he knew the truth, though, he clicked the safety off audibly.

“Drop the gun, Michael,” he said calmly, but his face clearly portrayed his dilemma. He would not shoot Lindsay, because Michael might shoot him – but moreover he respected Michael and his decisions. That was why he had let the subject drop a year ago, because he knew Michael had his own reasons for protecting the girl, and above all else Geoff wanted to be the gang leader of a group of self-sufficient men who could make their own choices. If he did not let them choose for themselves, he might as well go back to being a Colonel in the Army. Alternately, though, the reputation of the Fake AH Crew was now at stake, and regardless of Michael’s feelings this woman had robbed them, without consequence. There would need to be consequence.

“No.” Michael replied, a relaxed grin on his face. In spite of the bad situation he had gotten himself in – and Jeremy, who was backing him thoughtlessly – he was feeling pretty good. He couldn’t have concealed Lindsay’s identity forever, and the situation would have been exponentially worse if Geoff had found out years down the road. More than anything, though, he was just ecstatic to see her beautiful face again, regardless of whatever ulterior motive she had.

Michael and Geoff faced each other down, neither really holding their guns with intent but both unable to lower them. It seemed like the stalemate would continue for quite some time as the pair internally puzzled out the problem, but Lindsay was having none of that.

With one manicured nail, she pushed Geoff’s gun away from her face with a distasteful expression. She rolled her eyes at his incredulous look, and walked around the couch to gracefully seat herself beside Jack.

“Relax,” she said disinterestedly, crossing her ankles. “Just take the money I took out of my next couple of paychecks. Do you mind if I have some of this?” She pointed to a half-eaten nasi goring in front of Jack, who handed it to her with a small grin that Michael knew meant she liked her.

Unexpectedly, though, it was Geoff who laughed first and lowered his gun, sitting back down on the couch and offering his hand to Lindsay.

“Welcome to the crew, you ballsy bitch,” he said with a chuckle as she shook his hand with a suddenly shy smile. “I can promise that money will be coming out of your paychecks though. And-“ his voice dropped a notch, suddenly quite serious, “If you rob us again Michael will not be able to protect you from me. Understand?”

She did not flinch at his threat. “I do, boss,” she said cheerfully. “When do I start?”

As the rest of the men replaced their weapons and sat down, Geoff’s face returned to its relaxed tone. “Ah, nothing tonight. Play video games with us, I wanna see what you’re actually made of.”

At that was how Michael spent the evening, in a state of hyper-awareness mixed with disbelieving elation. She was here, she was real, and she was quite good at gaming, too. It felt like every time he discovered a new amazing thing about her, and he thought she couldn’t possibly be any more perfect, she would flip that trademark smile of hers and astound him again.

In spite of this, and in spite of how much the crew seemed to like her, Michael was still devastatingly suspicious of her. When she finally got up to leave at quarter past two in the morning, tossing warm goodbyes over her shoulder; he watched her go, gripping the couch to stop himself running after her. The others were watching him with raised eyebrows, but he wasn’t going to go after her, and be manipulated again.

“Hey, Michael?” He looked up with surprise. She was waiting in the door, her foot propping it slightly ajar. She looked genuinely nervous, looking at her hands and worrying her rings around her fingers. She spoke again, softly, without looking up. “Can I talk to you in the hallway for a moment?”

He turned to glance at Geoff, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. He had pushed it a lot tonight, and he wanted to let Geoff know he still respected his leadership. He knew he would say yes, though, and he was already on his feet following her out the door before anyone had a chance to say anything else.

The door swung shut behind him, and he was only inches away from her for the first time in a year and a half. She was so close, he could count her eyelashes, as auburn as her hair.

Yet now he was so near to what he had thought incessantly about for so long, it was the dark thoughts that pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. She was probably just preparing a backup plan to rob them again after this kidnapping and, inevitably, he was the backup plan. God, he was being so stupid vouching for her in front of the guys. He crossed his arms over his chest, nails digging into his arms to stop himself from touching her.

“Michael –“ she began, looking up timidly.

“Oh, so you know my name? You never asked me my name last time.” he interrupted, and, unexpectedly, she flinched, and his heart hurt. He pushed it out of his mind. “Look, what are you doing here, actually? It’s driving me mad – _you’re_ driving me mad. I hope you realize how badly tonight could have gone for you – they would have killed you a year and a half ago. And – and I don’t think I can take it if this is just another scheme so I will repeat myself. What are you doing here?”

She intently twisted her rings for a moment longer, looking pointedly at the floor and still blushing from Michael’s speech. Then, as though steeling herself, she looked up abruptly and said boldly, “Would you believe if I said I came here for you? And that I haven’t stopped thinking about you all this time?”

Michael’s heart plummeted and skyrocketed simultaneously. She had said exactly what he wanted to hear – and yet -

“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t believe you.”

_There’s no way she could actually want me._

For a moment her face twisted with pain and Michael nearly seized her then and there. She looked so hurt – maybe he was wrong – but then her face was a smooth mask again, her usual cheeky smile upon it. But there was something slightly different in that smile as she leant in, a desperate need as she pressed Michael against the wall.

“Well,” she said, their mouths a breath apart, her hands fisted in his shirt. “Then I’ll just have to spend the rest of my life trying to prove it to you.”

And just like that, he blinked and she had disappeared down the hallway. For a moment he stood still, stunned. Then a smile slowly began to spread over his face.

At that moment the door to the apartment clicked open and the other five members of the Fake AH Crew revealed themselves to have be listening shamelessly at the door.

“Damn, son,” said Geoff, and the others nodded in fervent agreement.

Michael just pushed back past them into the apartment as the others laughed and clapped him on the back. He looked back down the hallway momentarily as he turned to close the door behind him, and saw a swish of auburn hair hurry round the corner. Michael smiled broadly.

Maybe this was all an elaborate setup. But he wasn’t too worried anymore. More than anything, he just wanted to see what would happen. Regardless of the consequences.

He couldn’t wait to see Lindsay tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey nerds, let us know how you felt about this one! Do us a solid and kudos or comment. Without proper encouragement, I'm likely to just give up on all my dreams, pack up my stuff into a box and head back out of LA as the rain pours down the bus window and I listen to 'Missing You' by John Waite. Think of the suffering artists clichés before you ignore that kudos button ok


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